


squeezed out of the tube

by arabellagaleotti



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cheating, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Emotional Infidelity, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Infidelity, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Ron Weasley Bashing, Morally Ambiguous Character, hermione and ron fell out of love, nbd, well kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabellagaleotti/pseuds/arabellagaleotti
Summary: “Can you — can you forgive me?” he asks hesitantly, looking up at her with big brown doe eyes.She sighs, and finally gives a real answer. “No, honestly.”His lips part, he gets that wrinkle in his forehead. “Really, ‘Mione, all we've been through? I can't believe you'd just give up on us. We’re soulmates, ‘Mione.”She scoffs, “Excuse me? You beg for forgiveness then whine when you don't get it? God, you fucking a bunch of barely legal girls isn't forgivable, it’s just predatory. Anyway, that's not the reason I don't forgive you. I don't forgive you because now you've gone and ruined all of it with this little confession.”OR,Hermione is cheating on Ron. Ron is cheating on Hermione. They don't love each other, but that doesn't make it easier.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	squeezed out of the tube

He’s cheating on her too. The long showers, the awkward looks, the guilt that positively radiates off him. Christ, he doesn't even clean the lipstick off his collar. It’s painfully obvious, only a fool wouldn't know it, and Hermione Granger isn’t a fool. She sits on the too expensive couch she picked out last year as revenge, smokes her cigarette, the smell of cloves floating around her, as he steps though the floor, coming from another girl, and only smiles as he does it. 

“Oh. Hi, Hermione,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. He won’t look her in the eyes. 

“Hi,” she says back, calmly, and takes another long drag.

“Didn't...didn't expect you to be up,” he mumbles. His hair glints in the light, and 15-year-old Hermione would have swooned right into his arms and forgiven him for everything, and never thought of Lavender again. Until they snog at the table the next morning, that is. 

She shrugs, and blows the smoke out in a log stream. His eyes track the movement. “I am.”

“You alright?” he asks, concerned in his eyes. He always gets those wrinkles on his forehead when he's worried, or when they fight. 

She smiles, a little, and says her next words carefully, “Are you, Ronald?” she stares him right in the face and leans forward, waiting for the answer. 

“Yeah,” he says uncertainty. He's wondering if she knows. Wondering if he should confess now, get ahead of it before she says anything. He banks on that, obviously, because he opens his mouth and says, “Look, Hermione, I have to tell you—”

“Let’s go to bed,” she says, interrupting him, purposely. She doesn't want to talk about it now. She's too tired. Too happy. She has to be in a real bitchy mood when he confesses. That way, she can be as cutting as she wants, she can get as angry at him as she wants.  _ Hypocrite _ , she thinks disdainfully at herself, 

He blinks in surprise, “I— what?”

She smiles at him blandly, and ignores the utter confusion raging across his face. Ron knows that she’d never interrupt him when he’s obviously saying something like that, Hermione Granger wouldn't let it rest. But this isn't Hermione Granger anymore, is it? “I said, let’s go to bed, Ronald.”

  
  


—

She’s with Harry, just stepping out of the floo in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry’s waving to Tom and the fireplace flames again, Hermione pivots to get out of the way and comes face to face with Malfoy, in a long muggle coat to keep out the cold.

“Oh,” she says, staring at him wide-eyed. She’s never run into him in public before, only the ministry. Let alone with Harry by her side. No worse than Ron, she supposes. 

“Hi,” he says back. 

Harry turns at the sound of his voice, stepping closer to Hermione protectively, saying, “Malfoy,” as if they're still in school. 

He half smiles at him,“I go by Draco now,” and he hesitates before saying, “Harry.”

Harry deflates a little, “Oh. Okay...Draco.”

His gaze switches to her. “Hermione. Good to see you,” he says, just like their colleagues. 

She smiles back, “you too.”

Harry looks between them, “You seem...uh, friendly?”

“We work together, at the ministry,” Hermione explains.

“Yes. The delightful department of  Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes ,” he adds. 

Hermione laughs. “Real riveting stuff. You don't wanna hear about it, harry.”

Draco nods. “Not as exciting as Auror stuff, I bet.”

“Sure,” Harry says. “Yeah, it’s….exciting, I guess.”

Draco smiles briskly, then his gaze slides away, and Hermione knows he’s thinking. “Anyway, I’ve gotta run. Just packing up a few things in the alley.”

“I’ll see you later, alright?” he says, looking at her just a shade too intensely. 

“Alright,” she agrees easily, all aware of Harry’s presence at her shoulder, and his growing concern. 

He turns and walks away, Hermione turns too once he's far enough, back to Harry. She smiles at him and hopes to god he doesn't bring it up. She's as obvious as Ron, she thinks scornfully. 

“Didn't know you liked Malfoy so much,” he just says, his face tight. 

Hermione shrugs, “I like Draco just fine. He's actually a very nice guy.”

“Is that all?” Harry asks. 

“Of course,” she laughs. “We’re just colleagues.”

She’s turning away, about to follow him out to Diagon Alley — maybe a stop on the way at the bar for a butterbeer when Harry says, quietly, “that isn't all though, is it?”

“Harry, I'm married to Ron,” she says, and knows Harry will probably back down at that. The obvious. She’s married to Ron, she must love him. She must never ever even think of cheating on him, not even in the slightest. 

He doesn't back down. Maybe her friend has changed. “That's the problem, I think.” She tries to go like he hasn't said anything, but Harry grabs her arm and makes her look into his face, “You should stop, Hermione,” he says quietly. 

She sighs, her worst fears always come true. “I know, Harry. Believe me.”

“Ron deserves better than this,” he says, eyes fixed on her. Oh, Harry. Harry, good and true Harry. He thinks everyone’s relationship is like his. Perfect Ginny and Perfect Harry, who are perfect together. Never fight, or only very occasionally over very serious matters, and would never even dream of infidelity, and if they did, would go and do a bout of couples therapy until the issue of sleep-wanking over someone that isn't their spouse is resolved. 

She shakes her head and almost laughs, laughs in his face. “Not really. He cheats, too.”

Harry gapes, surprise in every bit of his face. His best friend isn't as moral as god? What! He clears his throat, blinks a few times, wipes his hands on his robes, obviously trying to process this information. “Ron — Ron wouldn't.”

She turns her head and lowers her voice. This is cutting. This is Hermione who can be quite mean, really. “Just like I wouldn't?” no one ever thinks of that Hermione, but they probably should. 

“Hermione —” they are always surprised. 

“He hasn't told me, yet, but I suspect it’ll be soon. He’s painfully obvious, you know. At least I keep my affair hidden.”

“How do you know?”

“The guilt drips off him,” she says simply. 

“That's not proof,” Harry says, obviously clutching at straws for any ability of redemption for his best friend.

She shrugs, sighs, suggests airily, “Maybe it’s the lipstick on his collar then?”

Harry shakes his head. “I can't believe this,” he mumbles. 

Hermione takes pity on him. “Not everyone is a good person, Harry. Maybe good isn't even real.”

“Hermione...why?” he pleads, looking into her eyes. 

“Why what?” she says, because there's a lot of things she’s done over the course of her life.

Harry sighs. “Why….why are you doing it? Why is Ron doing it?”

“Well, I suspect Ron likes the attention, god knows I don't give it to him. I think they're young, so there's probably some idolization on their end. There are fans. He likes feeling famous, and worthwhile, and young. The glory days come knocking again.”

“You?”

“I guess i just stopped loving him.” she laughs shortly. “Maybe I never did.”

“Do you love Malfoy, then?” he asks, eyes wide. She feels like a teacher. 

“Oh, Harry,” she shakes her head, “Never, ever, say you love an affair, even if it’s true. It invites bad things.”

—

Ron catches on after the third owl in a day. She's been waiting, but he's been too busy moaning about Quidditch or something to notice his wife writing fithly love letters. Hermione knows a part of her would like to get caught, would like to have that fight, really reveal to Ron what a dirty, cheating bitch she really is, but she never has the balls to tell him. 

“Who’s that too?” he asks as she’s nearly done. 

“Draco Malfoy,” she says carefully, not looking at him as she finishes the last letter with a sexual suggestion and her initials. 

“Malfoy?” Ron repeats, stepping closer to her. 

She folds it up, pops it in an envelope, as she enunciates clearly, “Yes.”

“What are you doing talking to Malfoy?” Ron says, confusedly. They do work together, and Ron even knows that. He had a fit when Malfoy started working in public society:  _ ‘ _ it's a bloody outrage, ‘Mione, he was a Death-Eater, what are they just letting anyone do anything now? I’m gonna go walk into Shaklebolt’s office and demand to be Minister.’ ‘You couldn't be Minister’, is the only thing Hermione said.

“We work together. At the ministry. You know that. I like him, he's a competent employee.”

“Oh,” Ron just says, and what Hermione looks at him, his mouth  _ will  _ be open. 

“Problem, Ronald?” she asks, finally looking at him, raising an arched eyebrow. She was right. 

He shakes his head, kicks at the floor. She bites back a comment about having to pay for new carpet. “No no, ‘Mione. Just...surprising,” he mumbles. She’s shamed him, she sees. Ah, the bitchy wife again. 

“The wars over. Maybe you should catch up,” she says as she hands the letter to her owl, Ron staring listlessly at the back of her head. 

— 

“Hermione, I've got to talk to you,” is the first thing Ron says as she gets in from a late night at work, it’s already nine and she hasn’t eaten. 

She steps out of the floo, puts down her bag, looks at Ron, sitting there nervously on the couch, and knows he’s about to fuck it all up, this balance that makes her feel like not such a bad person. “Oh, Ron. No, no.”

“No, I've got to, I feel so guilty — so, so, terrible, and really, I deserve it, I do, I'm a horrible —” he starts ranting, nervous and jittery before she interrupts.

She doesn't sit down, just demands, “Get on with it.”

He takes a deep breath, “I've been cheating on you,” his eyes flick to hers waiting nervously. He waits for her reaction, but it never comes. He swallows nervously when she just stares at him blankly. “Um, with a few different girls. Only once or twice for each, you see.”

“Uh huh,” she mumbles, thinking about dinner. 

“I'm so sorry. I’ve — I've stopped all of it now, and I won't ever again.”

“I'm sure.”

“Can you — can you forgive me?” he asks hesitantly, looking up at her with big brown doe eyes. 

She sighs, and finally gives a real answer. “No, honestly.”

His lips part, he gets that wrinkle in his forehead. “Really, ‘Mione, all we've been through? I can't believe you'd just give up on us. We’re soulmates.”

She scoffs, “Excuse me? You beg for forgiveness then whine when you don't get it? God, you fucking a bunch of barely legal girls isn't forgivable, it’s just predatory. But that's not the reason I'm not forgiving you. I don't forgive you because now you've gone and ruined all of it with this little confession.”

“What?” he blinks, surprised at her response to his whining or her bit about ruining it. 

She sighs, “When we were both cheating, it was fine, we balanced each other out.” There it is, the part of her that wants to get caught has finally won. Will she be happy now? "Now, I have to feel guilty."

He blinks back at her, surprised of all things. “You're cheating?”

She scoffs. “Of course I'm fucking cheating, I've only been home twice in the last week. Didn't you notice, Ronald?”

“No— no. I've been home late, too. Or...or not at all.”

She rolls her eyes, like it’s obvious, when she’s only now realizing it properly, the truth behind their empty house. “Yeah, of course you have, because neither of us want to come home.”

“Of course — of course I want —” he stutters, and she can’t wait for him to fool through that sentence. 

“Please, Ronald. We haven't been in a relationship for years. We’re only together because it’s easier.”

“I— I love you,” he stammers and he must have realised it’s not true by now, surely. 

“You don't. That's just a lie you tell yourself. Just like I tell myself.”

“Who is it?” he asks, quietly,and then raises his voice and raises his eyes to look at her in the face. “Who is it, Hermione?” 

She juts her chin out and says it loudly. “Draco Malfoy. The past year.”

His face goes through utter shock “I can't believe this.”

“What?”

“The fucking ferret, really?” he asks rhetorically. 

Hermione rolls her eyes, sighing, “it's been years since school, Ron.”

“It’s still Malfoy,” he says stubbornly.

She explodes with tired, selfish rage, the rage she's harboured ever since the trials after the war, where punishments were given out and justice served. That's when he should have given it up, but he hasn't. “The war is over! We’ve left Hogwarts, we should leave these stupid little prejudices, too!”

“I just can't believe you're fucking him!”

She smiles, says cruelly, “Oh, darling, he’s fucking me.”

He shakes his head, and looks at her like he doesn't know who she is. “You’re — you're crazy, Hermione. I can't believe you'd do that.”

“So are you, then,” she says. "Since you're doing it too."

“Malfoy… I can't believe I didn't know...” he sighs, holds his head like it's a moral quandary he can't figure out. It kind of is, to be fair. Who would've thought, Granger and Malfoy, Hermione and Draco. Enemies to lovers, and no one saw it coming. 

She laughs out loud. “I've known about you since you started, Ron!”

“Yeah, but I at least feel bad!” he shouts back.

Hermione narrows her eyes, shrugging as she says, “Why? For what point?”

He gapes at her like a fish out of water, “The point? We’re  _ married _ , Hermione!”

“When did we last fuck, Ron?” 

He groans, half-steps away, “Oh, Hermione doesn't say it like that.”

“What should I say? Lovemaking?” she asks, and he doesn't say anything, so she demands again, “How long has it been?”

“I don't know,” he admits, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don't fucking know.”

“Seven months,” she says, viciously, watching him closely. 

He recoils, shocked, then just laughs, “No, it hasn't,” he denies.

She raises an eyebrow, determined to force the issue. “When was it then?”

“Uh, after Harry's dinner party,” he says dismissively. 

She throws her hands in the air, “yeah, the dinner party seven months ago.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he gapes at her. 

“I know that, Ron,” she sighs, and she's tired. She wants out of the marriage, and this house, and the conversation. “I’m going,” she says, getting up and grabbing her bag.

“Hey, come on, Hermione, don't leave,” he pleads, following her to the floo, holding onto her wrist tightly. She shoves him off and takes a step into the fireplace, turning to face him. 

She sneers a little at his face, pale with all his freckles standing out like electric signs in the night, and the look in his eyes, like she’s kicked his puppy and spit in his mother’s face, but he still loves her for some reason, when he hasn’t, really. Maybe he never did. Maybe she never did, or at least not now. Not at all. She hates him, really, she thinks she does. When did she grow to resent him this much? “There's nothing for me here,” she says, and throws her floo powder down at her feet and flies away. 

It’s true, she thinks, as she stands in the elaborate parlour, with it’s paintings and the antique chairs from 1744 and the ornate china Draco laughs about you and your bloodline being cursed if you chip even one teacup.

She thinks that everything has all been squeezed out of the tube, everything useful in their relationship gone down the drain with time and age and just the fact they never really loved each other. There’s nothing left for her, and nothing for him. This is for the best, she tells herself. The best. Maybe it's okay, or maybe it should be. It'll be messy, their divorce. The tabloids will mourn, and then, when they find out about her and Draco, they'll rejoice and run the printers so hot they explode. It will be messy, and it will be hard, but it will be okay.

“Hermione? Is that you?” he yells from the other room, hearing the floo. She’s just about the only person with access to this fireplace, he told her, and she's probably the only one that would come at this time. 

“Yeah,” she just calls back, a little shell shocked, as he sticks his head through the doorway, grins at her. He’s all casual, hair messy and wearing a loose grey t-shirt and jeans, the jeans she’d given him for a laugh, but he actually liked them. 

“Hi,” he says, and walks forward, but the smile melts off his face when he sees her standing there like she is. “What’s wrong?”

  
“Uh, nothing. Really. Really,” and she starts grinning back, and feels a bit dizzy, all the blood rushing to her head as she gasps for breath, “really, I’m happy. It had to end. Had to.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks her, steadying her, but it’s already better. 

“Ron,” she whispers, and kisses his ear. "I'm talking about my soon-to-be divorce."

**Author's Note:**

> just a oneshot, hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> leave a kudos/comment if u want!
> 
> :)
> 
> xx


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